


Captain of the Guard

by Whedonista93



Series: Queen of Dale [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF Buffy Summers, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Family, Fix-It, Politics, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:07:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22798315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonista93/pseuds/Whedonista93
Summary: A Slayer's Guide to Rebuilding a Medieval(ish) Kingdom
Relationships: Buffy Summers/Bard the Bowman
Series: Queen of Dale [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577443
Comments: 11
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All my love to the bestest beta in the world! aggiepuff

Dwarves, elves, orcs, goblins, and men… all shedding blood, for all kinds of reasons. Even Buffy’s iron wrought arrows do very little against the giant worms, so she turns her attention back to the orcs and goblins. The battle isn’t exactly going in their favor, and then Thorin and his company emerge from the mountain - it’s just enough distraction and surprise to turn the tide.

The battle fades to a haze around her until she hears someone shout about Thorin going for the orcs signal flags and it snaps her back to her surroundings. It practically screams trap. And she’ll never make it up to them in time. Her arrows. She glances around furtively for a bow, having lost her own at some point in the fighting, and dives, coming back up with a fallen elf’s longbow and a triumphant shout.

“You’ll never have the strength to pull it,” a nearby elf sneers at her.

Buffy sneers back, nocks one of her wrought iron bolts and takes aim just as the pale orc dangles Fili over the cliff. She draws the bow back, breathes a prayer to Yavanna, and looses. It doesn’t fly quite true - it takes out the orc directly behind the pale orc, but her second, nocked as fast as the first, flies direct to its mark, strikes him in the chest. She winces when he drops Fili, but she reassures herself that a broken leg is better than an orc’s sword through his chest.

She slings the bow over her shoulder in favor of her sword and starts the push toward Thorin. By the time she reaches them, she’s well into the battle haze once again, and struggles to pull herself out of it. When she notices the orcs still swarming the ice, she doesn’t bother trying, just resumes swinging her sword. By the time the orcs in her vicinity are little more than bloody smears, the retreat is sounding and the battle on the ground is winding down and the red haze finally begins to fade from the edges of her vision.

She takes a deep breath and turns, heaving a sigh of relief when she sees Kili limping out of the ruins with Tauriel’s aid and Thorin and Dwalin kneeling next to Fili, propped against the cliffside. “Everyone good?”

Thorin looks up, eyeing the arrows on her back critically. “Aye. Thanks to you, it appears, my lady.”

Buffy shrugs. “You might be an ass, but I’m pretty sure I like you better than Dain, so…”

Dwalin snorts out something like a laugh. “I like this one.”

Buffy smiles. “Let’s get back down to the valley. Who needs help walking?”

Kili and Fili both sheepishly raise their hands.

Buffy jerks her chin toward Tauriel. “Can you carry him?”

Tauriel nods.

Kili blushes.

Buffy rolls her eyes. “You gonna act all emasculated if she carries you down on her back?”

“No, m’lady,” the young dwarf mutters.

Buffy grins and turns toward the other three. “You two got him?”

Dwalin and Thorin both nod and heft Fili up between them.

Buffy winces at the blood flowing down his leg. “Okay, set him back down.”

She moves over and kneels at his feet, setting the longbow aside and divesting herself of her quiver before shrugging her jacket off and whipping her shirt off. She tugs the jacket back on and fastens it as tightly as she can. She gingerly feels around Fili’s leg and grimaces in sympathy when he cries out in pain about the time she finds the bone protruding from his skin just below his knee. “This is gonna hurt.”

He bites his lip and nods.

Buffy quickly unties one her leather bracers and hands it up to him. “Bite down on this.” She looks to Thorin and Dwalin. “Hold him down.” As soon as they have the younger dwarf pinned, she places her hands firmly on each side of his leg and wrenches the bone back into place, before blindly reaching toward her quiver, using one of the arrows to keep his leg straight before using her free hand and her teeth to rip her shirt into strips to tie everything together, tying a few of the wider strips over the worst of the bleeding. Task complete, she nods. “Okay, let’s get him down there so we can get that properly set, cleaned, and stitched.”

Everyone on their feet again, Thorin freezes. “Bilbo.”

Buffy turns. “What?”

“The hobbit. The hobbit was here.”

Buffy groans. “Shit. Okay, start down. I’ll find him.”

They hesitate, but go. 

Almost an hour later, Buffy hears shifting in the loose rocks toward the edge of plane and moves toward it cautiously. “Bilbo?”

A groan.

“I can’t see you.”

A quiet curse, then the hobbit appears out of thin air.

Buffy’s hand tightens on her sword. “Explain.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo silently holds up a plain gold band.

It takes a considerable amount of Buffy’s willpower no to recoil from the darkness emanating off of it.

“My lady?” Bilbo looks concerned.

“I don’t know where you got that thing, but it’s _evil_.”

Bilbo visibly deflates. “I was beginning to fear as much.”

Buffy shudders. “We’re gonna have to deal with that.”

Bilbo nods, visibly hesitates, then holds the ring out toward Buffy. “I’ve a horrible feeling that if I don’t give it up now I might not be able to.”

Buffy starts to reach for it before abruptly pulling back and reaching for Bilbo’s jacket instead, ignoring his protests when she rips a bit of the lining out of his jacket and snags the ring with that instead of her bare hand, wrapping it up tightly and shoving it deep in the pocket of her duster. She offers a hand up to Bilbo. “We should go. Even injured, everyone else had to have made it to the valley by now.”

Bilbo accepts the hand down and they start the trek down. 

Buffy is antsy the whole way down, wanting to run, desperate to find her family, but unwilling to leave the hobbit on his own with a head wound and the possibility of still lurking goblins or orcs. Eventually, they make it down and Buffy passes Bilbo off to the first dwarf of Thorin’s company she passes and sprints off toward Dale, in search of Bard and the children. She finds the children first, hesitantly wandering toward the battlefield. The moment they spot her, they break into a run and slam into her hard enough they all end up in a pile on the ground, Buffy wrapping her arms around as much of them as she can reach. Several minutes later, they all manage to get back on their feet, still clinging to each other.

“Have you seen Da yet?” Sigrid asks. 

Buffy shakes her head with a frown.

“M’lady?”

Buffy turns her head toward the voice and sees the elf who had told her she wouldn’t have the strength to draw the bow. She raises an eyebrow in his direction.

“Your husband is with my king, m’lady,” he gestures toward the open field and Thranduil’s tent.

Buffy nods. “Thank you.”

She instructs the children to return to the building within the ruins they’ve been staying in since the dragon attack.

They protest.

Buffy holds up a hand. “I don’t… I don’t know what state I’m going to find him in, and there are things you don’t need to see. Go. I will send someone for you or we will both come back to you soon.”

Bain looks like he’s ready to argue, but Sigrid puts a hand on each of her younger siblings shoulders and steers them away. Buffy shoots a weak but sincere smile her way before turning back toward Thranduil’s tent.

The elf standing guard looks down at her with disdain. “You are not cleared to enter.”

Buffy bares her teeth in a snarl. “You have approximately two seconds to move yourself out of my way before _I_ move you out of my way.”

“You are not cleared to ent-”

The elf is on the ground with a broken arm and a broken nose and Buffy is making her way into the tent in a matter of seconds. Bard is slumped in a chair covered in blood, with an elvish healer bent over him, but when he looks up at her, his eyes are clear, and he holds a hand out to her. She immediately grasps it. “How much of the blood is yours?”

“More than he wants to admit,” the elf over him answers before he can open his mouth.

Bard grimaces.

Buffy takes a shaky breath. “When you’re done with him you may want to check on your buddy outside.”

The elf raises an eyebrow at her.

Buffy shrugs. “He didn’t want to let me in.”

The elf nods. “I have staunched the bleeding, but he needs a bath and stitches.”

Buffy nods. “Thank you.” She takes another deep breath and finally turns her face up to Bard’s. “Are you okay?”

His smile is wan. “I have been better, but I am alive, and you appear unscathed.”

Buffy shrugs. “Bumps and knicks.”

“The children?”

“Whole and unharmed.”

He drops his forehead to hers. “Then all is well in my world.”

Buffy blinks back tears and lifts her face enough to brush her lips against his.

“Marry me.”

Buffy laughs. “I already said yes.”

“I mean now.”

She smirks. “And who’s going to perform this ceremony?”

“I believe I am qualified, my lady.”

Buffy jumps to her feet and whirls, spotting the wizard by the entrance. “Shit, wear a bell.”

Gandalf laughs. “I apologize, my lady.”

“He is qualified,” Bard says quietly.

Buffy turns. “You’re serious?”

Bard carefully shoves himself to his feet. “I am.”

He sways and Buffy tucks herself under his arm. “Okay.” She faces Gandalf. “Let’s do this.”

Within minutes, they’re married.

Thranduil surprises them by gifting them with rings, simple bands, but forged from mithril.

Buffy stares at the band for a moment, then winces. “The kids are gonna kill us.”

Bard curses.

Buffy manages to get Bard back to their temporary lodgings and somehow manages to browbeat a few men into bringing her a tub and clean water.

Once he’s clean, she frowns at the gash along his ribs and the needle in her hands. “Sigrid would be better at this part.”

Bard shakes his head. “I don’t want them to see me like this.”

Buffy smirks. “Naked?”

Bard huffs out something that’s almost a laugh and winces.

Buffy sobers. “I know. Fine, but no complaining when you have a zig-zaggy scar.”

Bard shakes his head. “Even after years, sometimes I don’t understand the words that come out of your mouth.”

The kids don’t kill them, but it’s a near thing.


	3. Chapter 3

Buffy is beyond grateful that the people allow them a night of rest after the battle. And, really, she should have known it was too good to be true, so she isn’t actually all that surprised when she exits their makeshift dwelling and finds two surly dwarves guarding the entrance. She laughs and kisses them both on the cheek, graciously not mentioning the blushes that rise. “Thank you.”

The apparently older of the two nods and grunts.

The younger grins. “King Thorin was insistent ye be given a night of peace.”

“Send him my thanks.”

They nod in acknowledgment before shuffling off through the gathered crowd.

An older man - someone Buffy recognizes as having pandered to the Master shoves to the front of the crowd. “Where’s Bard, girl?”

Buffy raises an eyebrow as the crowd raises a chorus demanding Bard.

Bard strides out and stops close enough to Buffy he can use her for support without it being obvious that’s what he’s doing. Fortunately, his voice is strong. “Enough!”

The crowd quiets.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“We had a meeting last night,” the first old man tells him.

“Is there a point to all this?” Bard asks wearily.

A middle aged woman, one Buffy recognizes as someone who frequently mouthed off to Alfrid and is therefore fond of - she thinks her name is Hilda - steps up. “We would have you as our King, Dragon Slayer.”

It takes almost two years of hard labor to rebuild Dale and Erebor. Bard accepts the title of King, but declares he will not have a coronation held, will not wear a crown, until his kingdom is built back up into a livable society. Bard keeps his promise and names Buffy Captain of the Guard, and Buffy splits her time between the children, training an army, and the manual labor of rebuilding.

Just shy of a year to the day after the battle, Tilda comes skidding into the training yards excitedly. “There’s horses! So many horses! From the South!”

Buffy nods and barks out orders for her soldiers to continue their drills, aside from one she sends to bring her horse, as she swings Spike’s old duster around her shoulders and heads toward the Southern gates, Tilda hot on her heels. When she sees the standard preceding the herd, she laughs.

“Mum?” Tilda questions hesitantly. 

“Do you recognize their standard?”

Tilda shakes her head.

“They come from the Rohirim. They come in peace.” 

“How do you know?”

A stable boy appears, Soldier’s reigns in hand. “Captain, your horse.”

Buffy nods. “Thank you.” She turns back to Bard’s youngest. “Because I asked them to come.” With that, she hefts herself into the saddle, then takes off at a comfortable clip toward the approaching men and horses. She can hear her personal squadron cursing behind her - she’s already a bit notorious for taking off toward trouble with no back up, and it tends to make the king cranky when they let her, but no one has been able to stop her yet.

Buffy smirks as she gallops out the southern gates.

The herd is led by a hulking man with golden hair and familiar kind eyes.

Buffy halts Soldier and smiles broadly. “Hamir.”

Hamir pulls his own mount to a stop beside her and smiles back. “Buffy.”

“It’s good to see you.”

“And you, my lady.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “You could have told me you were coming.”

He grins. “Where would the fun be in that?”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “I would’ve been able to prioritize getting the stables rebuilt.”

Hamir shrugs easily. “It’s a good time of year. They can be pastured for now.”

Her squadron catches up then. Cass, her second-in-command, glares at her disapprovingly. “Captain.”

Buffy beams back at him, completely unrepentant. “Cass, my man! Meet my buddy Hamir. He’s moving in.”

Cass raises an eyebrow. “Captain?”

“Have a group start on a paddock for the horses, set it up here on the south side of the city, outside the gates. I’m going to take Hamir in with me, work on getting lodging set up.” She turns to Hamir. “The men you brought with you good to stay with the horses and provide some direction on the enclosure?”

Hamir nods. “Aye.”

“Good. I’ll have food sent out for them.”

“Thank you. I’ll let them know.”

Hamir directs his horse to the nearest rider and pauses for a brief conversation before turning back toward Buffy.

Buffy has a brief glaring contest with Cass before the man finally turns back toward the city with a huff, pointedly giving orders for the rest of the squadron to stay with the newcomers. She considers ordering them back to the city, just to be contrary, but forces the urge away, figuring she’s probably already causing Bard enough of a headache for one day.

Hamir rides up alongside her as she starts back toward the gates. “The soldier does not like you.”

Buffy shrugs. “I make his job difficult. He forgets, sometimes, that I’m the one who trained him how to do it. He’s a jerk, but he is a good soldier, and I trust him to have my back, I just don’t always let him.”

Hamir shakes his head. “Still flying in the face of tradition, then?”

Buffy smiles with too many teeth. “Always. I’m Captain of the Guard. It’s been decades since Dale had a proper army. There’s literally not one citizen qualified to train them.”

“And you’re not a citizen?”

Buffy just shrugs in response.

“I was surprised, when you wrote,” he says quietly as they approach the gates.

Buffy shrugs. “I was surprised you responded. I didn’t know anyone here. And you had been kind to me.”

“I was glad you wrote. Your letters have been a comfort. And your invitation of a place here... I love my people, my lady, but I am more solitary by nature than many of them. I have few intimate connections with my own people. Your writing was surprising, but welcome.”

They remain in comfortable silence until they are walking through the halls of the recently finished castle toward Bard’s offices.

Buffy nudges his arm gently. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.”

Hamir shrugs. “It felt like a good time for a change. Your king did not object to your offering a place to a foreigner?”

Buffy snorts. “Wait ‘til you meet him.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Pushover?”

Buffy laughs outright as she pushes Bard’s door open. “No.”

Hamir looks relieved. “I would hope not. I have heard him called dragon slayer.”

“Blasphemy,” Bard retorts as they enter, letting the door close heavily behind them

“Bullshit,” Buffy fires back.

“I never could have killed the beast without you.”

Buffy swings around his desk and plants herself in his lap, kissing him dramatically on the cheek as she does. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Bard shakes his head and wraps an arm around her waist. “Who’s your friend?”

“Bard, this is Hamir. He was the first friend I made around here. Hamir, Bard.”

Hamir inclines his head respectfully toward Bard. “An honor, your majesty.” He turns a near glare on Buffy. “And should I be calling you the same?”

Buffy snorts. “If you call me anything but Buffy, I swear…”

Hamir raises an eyebrow.

Buffy rolls her eyes. “I mean, _technically_ no one has been crowned.”

Hamir just continues to stare at her.

Buffy heaves a sigh. “Bard didn’t want to have a coronation until after most of the rebuilding was done. Actually, he doesn’t want to have a coronation at all, but the people are insistent.”

Bard buries his face in the nape of her neck to hide his chuckle.

Buffy elbows him petulantly.

He pulls his face back and smiles. “I like your friend, my love. He is not afraid of you.”

“Da,” Tilda bursts into the room. “Have you seen M- oh! There you are, Mum!”

Buffy beams. “What’s up, kiddo?”

Hamir looks back and forth between Buffy and Tilda. “Okay, it has not been _that_ many years since I’ve seen you, my friend.”

Bard chuckles and shakes his head. “Buffy may not be Tilda’s mother by blood, but she is the only mother my youngest has known.”

Tilda smiles happily as she plants herself on the open side of her father’s lap.

Bard rolls his eyes indulgently and settles back comfortably.

Buffy reaches over and squeezes the girl’s hand. “What were you looking for me for, sweetheart?”

“Can I take the horses to visit the new herd?”

Buffy laughs brightly. “You can take Sunny and Arrow. Leave Soldier. I swear, the older he gets, the grumpier he gets…”

Tilda squeals and bolts back out of the room.

Hamir raises an eyebrow. “Your mounts foaled?”

Buffy nods happily. “Arrow. Handsome thing. Follows Tilda around like a puppy. Much nicer than his daddy.”

Hamir shakes his head. “I don’t know what I would have done with that stubborn thing if he hadn’t taken to you.”

“He still doesn’t like anyone else,” Buffy smirks, smug.

“Not that we will not happily welcome your friend, but…”

Buffy sags back against him more comfortably. “Relax. He came because I asked him to. We could use his help.”

“How so?”

“He’s from Rohan. I got Soldier and Sunny from him. He brought a herd with him.”

Realization dawns on his face. “Oh. Horses will help a great deal.”

Buffy hums happily. “Farms. Army. Messengers.”

Bard smiles and buries his face in her neck. “I don’t know how I would do this without you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Hilda crosses her arms over her chest and taps her foot impatiently. “You asked for time to rebuild, my King. The people have given that time, and appreciate your efforts toward the kingdom, dragon slayer, but we would put the crown upon your head that you promised us you would take.”

Bard looks desperately toward Buffy.

Buffy shrugs. “You did promise. Dale is rebuilt, other than the stuff that just takes time.”

“You are spectacularly unhelpful.”

“So?” Hilda prompts.

Bard waves noncommittally.

Buffy rolls her eyes. “That means go ahead and plan your coronation.”

“ _His_ coronation,” Hilda corrects.

“Meh.”

Bard lets Hilda have free reign planning the coronation, and Buffy enjoys watching him squirm through every step of the process.

He’s unamused. “I could always tell her it’s your coronation as well.”

Buffy smirks and kisses him. “But you won’t.”

Sigrid tuts over the lines of Buffy’s gown, snipping and pinning as she goes. “You could have any seamstress in the kingdom make your coronation gown, you know.”

Buffy nods. “Sure I could, but what would the fun be in that?”

Sigrid rolls her eyes. “No one would even have to know it was because you’re being crowned. You’re Captain of the Guard and one of my father’s closest advisers. It’s expected you’ll be there.”

Buffy rolls her eyes back. “In armor, sure. But in a dress like this?”

Sigrid shakes her head. “You’re lucky I find your penchant for dramatics amusing.”

Bard tugs at the edge of his green-trimmed golden silk tunic, desperately wishing for his usual linen.

Bain chuckles and smooths his own green tunic. “It’s just for a few hours, Da.”

“Still don’t see why I can’t be crowned in my own damn breeches.”

“Those _are_ your breeches, Da,” Sigrid’s voice comes from the doorway.

Bard’s retort dies on his tongue as he looks up. Sigrid is standing there with her hand on Tilda’s shoulder, both in dark green gowns trimmed in gold with their curls cascading around their faces. “You both look beautiful.”

Tilda giggles. “Wait ‘til you see Mum.”

“Buffy is lovely, my darling,” Bard smiles, “but do you really think she coul-” the teasing dies on his lips when Buffy steps out of their bedchambers. Her golden gown - a match to his tunic, he vaguely registers - just barely brushes the floor. The neckline of her fitted bodice is teasingly low, but high enough to be tasteful and the sleeves are fitted to her elbows, where they flare slightly.

She smiles softly at him. “Hey, handsome.”

He goes to her, as if pulled by some invisible force, and takes her hands in his. “You, my love, are the most stunning creature I have ever laid eyes on.” He brings her hands up and kisses her knuckles gently.

She smiles again. “Ready to get this over with?”

He squeezes her hands once before releasing one and tucking the other into his elbow. “Let’s.”

The throne room is packed wall to wall, with the exception of the walkway down the center of the room and the dais where the thrones themselves sit. Bain, with one of his sisters on each arm, precedes them down the center of the throne room. Bard keeps his eyes ahead and his grip on Buffy’s hand in the crook of his elbow firm when the murmurs start. 

Despite the rumors and whispers over the years, they have never actually confirmed their relationship. Buffy has her own rooms, and no one could prove whether she used them or not. Neither of them was big on public affection. Middle Earth was just archaic enough to assume a man would never put a woman he cared about in a position as dangerous as Captain of the Guard.

For her part, Buffy keeps her shoulders straight, her head high, and her grip tight on his arm. He spares a thought to the fact that he can’t imagine anyone, not even his beloved first wife, other than Buffy by his side as his queen. He allows a brief, amused twist of his lips at the memory of all the young women who has been presented to him as potential matches over the times since he accepted his peoples’ request he serve as king.

They mount the dais slowly and stop in front of the elder who had been selected to carry out the coronation duties. He raises a brow at them. “Your grace?”

Bard raises a brow back. “Is there a problem?”

“Er, her ladyship is welcome at the ceremony, of course, but, er, as Captain of the Guard-”

“Are you trying to tell me that she cannot be Queen if she is Captain of the Guard?”

“Of course not, sire, but she cannot be Queen if she is not… er…”

“Not what?”

“Your wife, my lord,” the elder finally manages.

Buffy’s growing smirk cracks into a full out laugh, and she buries her face in his shoulder in an attempt to suppress it.

Bard pats her hand and smirks down at her head. “You’re going to muss your hair.”

She pulls her head back hurriedly and reaches up with her free hand to brush a few curls back into place.

He brushes a stray bit off her forehead and smiles down into sparkling green eyes. “Buffy has been my wife since the Battle of the Five Armies,” he tells the elder without looking away from Buffy.

Buffy beams at him. The elder’s gasp is echoed throughout the room.

“Your grace, you never…”

“My private life was not the business of an entire people at the time,” Bard says firmly. “King Thranduil was witness to the ceremony, if you care to question its legitimacy.”

The elder stammers and blushes and apologizes before proceeding with the coronation, and, in short order, Bard and Buffy are declared King and Queen of Dale.


	5. Chapter 5

Bard finds Buffy perched in their bedroom window with a book in her lap, frowning down at a plain gold band on a bit of grubby cloth. “My love?”

Buffy startles.

Bard frowns. His wife does not startle. “Are you well?”

Buffy runs her fingers through her hair from root to end, a sure sign of frustration. “There’s something  _ wrong _ with this thing, but I figure out what.”

“Is it time sensitive?”

She finally looks up. “No, no, it can wait.”

“Thranduil has requested a delegation for new trade agreements.”

“And you want me to go?”

Bard kneels in front of her, face solemn. “I will beg.”

Buffy smirks. “That could be fun.”

“He likes you.”

She giggles. “I’ll go, but I really do want to see more of this begging.”

Bard raises an eyebrow at the caravan rolling into the gates. “What’s all this, then?”

The man at the reigns of the lead cart holds out a roll of parchment. “Come from Bree, your majesty. Was hired by an odd little halfling that thought your people might could do with some help through the winter. Was right concerned your crops wouldn’t be up to scratch yet and all apologetic he weren’t home to send help last year.”

Bard glances over the note from Bilbo and smiles. “Master Baggins is too kind. A pity he couldn’t come himself.”

“Oh he did. Ran off with the other caravan toward the mountain.”

Buffy peers over his shoulder at the missive and snorts. “I see where we rank.”

Bard chuckles. “Well, I do believe we’re due for a meeting with Thorin anyway.”

Buffy smacks a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll get the horses and the kids.”

Bard waves the caravan leader through the gates and calls Cass over. “I’m taking Buffy and the children to Erebor. See that Master Bilbo’s gifts get properly sorted into the stores.”

Cass frowns. “Your grace, should we not accompany you on the road?”

Bard barely resists the urge to roll his eyes, but does quirk a brow at his wife’s second in command. “Absolutely not. Buffy expressly forbade you returning to Erebor after the last time and I am inclined to agree with her.”

Cass’ mouth tightens, but he bows his head respectfully. “As you command, your grace.” He turns to the caravan driver. “This way.”

Bard watches him until Buffy rides up to him, the kids trailing behind her on their own mounts and can’t help the soft smile that crosses his face.

Buffy smiles back and passes his reigns over. “Let’s go party.”

Bard wishes he could contradict his dear wife, but ‘meetings’ with the dwarves, inevitably, turn into him waking up somewhere in Erebor sometime the next day with a pounding headache, vague recollections of halfmade trade agreements, and Buffy draped over him.

He blinks awake slowly, and finds green eyes shining up at him. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but did we arrange a marriage between Fili and Sigrid?”

Buffy snorts. “Before you get all guilt trippy, I’m pretty sure it was her idea.”

Buffy’s known she’s expecting for a couple months, and her abdomen is just starting to swell when Bard finds her perched on top of one of the towers, staring toward the lake.

Her head tilts toward him, but she doesn’t quite look at him. “Going to tell me I should be careful?”

He shakes his head. “I would never.” He heaves himself up onto the wall next to her, presses himself against her side and lets his legs dangle next to hers.

She still doesn’t look at him, but she reaches over to tangle her fingers with his and rests her head on his shoulder.

He squeezes her fingers lightly and remains silent, lets her take whatever time she needs to gather her thoughts.

“I was never supposed to have this,” she finally murmurs.

“Have what, love?”

“I’ve never told you about where I’m from.”

“You told Tilda once that you killed monsters, but you don’t have to tell me anything.”

She squeezes his hand. “Yes, I do.”

He waits.

“I’m not from here. And I don’t mean just here, I mean… I’m not from this world. Yavanna found me, in my world, and asked me to fight for her world.”

The corner of Bard’s lips curl up. “I cannot say I am surprised… why did she pick you?”

“In my world… For centuries, there was one girl who was called Slayer. One girl whose job was to protect the world from evil.”

“You were her.”

She nods against his shoulder. “The life expectancy of a Slayer… it wasn’t good. The few that made it to their twenties were legendary. This,” she squeezes the hand twined with his and rests her free hand over her stomach, “wasn’t something Slayers got. I changed the rules. We made it so that every girl in the world who had the potential to be a Slayer  _ would _ be a Slayer. We evened the odds the best we could. I wasn’t the only one anymore. I was still  _ the _ Slayer, but I wasn’t the  _ only _ Slayer.”

“Did your world not need you any longer?”

“Not like yours did.”

“Whatever circumstances brought you here, I cannot help but be selfishly grateful for them.”

Buffy finally looks up at him and offers a weak smile. “I love my life here. But… I wasn’t supposed to have it. I don’t know how to.”

Bard cups her cheek and kisses her once, lightly, then rests his forehead against hers. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Buffy is more than a little in awe as she stares at the babies - plural, two - in her arms. “Can you believe we made these?”

Bard chuckles and reaches over from where he’s settled beside her and brushes a gentle finger over the downy head of the nearest baby. “You really should name them, you know.”

Buffy looks up at him, startled. “You don’t want to?”

Bard shrugs. “That I have them is enough for me. I named my eldest three. Our boys here, they are your legacy as much as mine. Name them what you will, love.”

Buffy’s eyes well up with tears.

“Please let those be happy tears.”

Buffy nods.

“Any ideas?”

Buffy shuffles a bit, gently passing one of the sleeping bundles to Bard, then shrugs. “I’d like to name them after my friends, I think, my family, the ones back where I’m from.”

“What were their names?”

“Names are a bit different where I’m from. We usually have three. A first and second name and a family name.” A bittersweet smile crosses her face, and her voice goes soft. “Willow Danielle Rosenberg. Alexander Lavelle Harris. Rupert Edmund Giles. William Pratt… but I always knew him as Spike. Angel, Tara, Anya, Oz, Cordelia, Riley… Dawn, my little sister, Dawn…”

Bard wraps his free arm around her shoulders and tugs her into his side, hiding his smile in her hair. “So many to choose from.”

“They’re all so important.”

“I wish I could meet them.”

“Me too.”

“Do you miss it, your world?”

“Sometimes.”

“Give our sons names that remind you of the best parts of it. Names that will make them strong.”

Buffy smiles. “Willow and Xander are some of the best and strongest people I’ve ever known. Giles has always been there. And Spike and Anya… I wouldn’t even be here without them.”

“You said Spike’s name was William, didn’t you? Willow and William are similar enough…”

Buffy hums thoughtfully and closes her eyes, resting her head against Bard’s chest. “William Gi- no... Rupert William. No, still not right…”

“Just Will?”

She opens her eyes and brushes a gentle hand over the light dusting of hair on his head. “Rupert Will.” She smiles as he puckers his lips in his sleep. “I like it.”

He shuffles the darker-haired baby back toward her. “And him?”

“I always liked Lavelle… Xander always thought it was too girly, but I always thought it sounded classy. And it would make sense to mesh Xander and Anya together… always kind of inevitable, no matter how much they fought it. Anya, no… Anyan. Anyan Lavelle?”

“The other way 'round?”

“Lavelle Anyan.”

“I like it.”

Buffy beams down at her newborns. “Rupert Will and Lavelle Anyan, welcome to Dale, my little princes.”


End file.
